


Not Yourselves Today

by chinchillasinunison



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Gen, Magical Artifacts, Mild Language, Out of Character, Personality Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 10:55:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16515005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinchillasinunison/pseuds/chinchillasinunison
Summary: Simon and Piggy find a magic mirror that inverts the viewer's personality if looked at directly for any substantial amount of time.[Basically just an excuse for me to write (almost) everybody acting deliciously out of character.]





	Not Yourselves Today

“I mean, you just… found it?”

Simon paused in his process of scrubbing the surface of the object and shrugged a shoulder.

“Well, yeah. I suppose, with the war going on and all, with all the ships and planes that are likely getting shot down, it's to be expected that… some things… like this... wash up on shore…”

His eyes drifted over the object again. It was a silver hand mirror, ornate in its detailing both molded and etched. The only thing that really showed its waterlogged origins was its oblong sheet of glass, which was grimy and crusted over with sea salt.

“Well, it's in pretty good shape, if that's the case…” Piggy commented, really just to fill the dead air as Simon got back to work.

“Hey,” he spoke again after a beat, “are you almost done there? I’d like my shirt back. My specs are gettin’ dirty again…”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm almost done,” Simon answered, with slight delay, “Just a few more go-arounds and I’ll break through…”

He sat and rubbed the glass in circles, until doing this led to a squeaking sound, indicating that the mirror was finally clean. He was about to lift the shirt off and hand it back to Piggy, when he spied a familiar pair of freckled legs standing just in front of him. He slowly craned his head up and found himself face-to-face with Jack Merridew. Roger and Maurice hovered close by, not exactly invested, but still clearly supporting the endeavor.

“Hello there, Simon…” he greeted with a cruel, condescending smile, “What's that you’ve got there?”

Simon drew the mirror to his chest, unwilling to let it go.

“Nothing.”

“Oh, really? That's nothing?” he said in faux confusion, “Well, the definition must've certainly changed while we were out hunting…”

“You let him be, Merridew. It's nothing you’d want, anyway...” said Piggy, in a voice that was far less confident than what he intended.

Jack shot Piggy a glare and the fat boy promptly cowered. He bent down and grabbed the edge of the hand mirror, tugging it a bit.

“Oh, come on, I just want to take a peek…”

He pried the silver object away from Simon's grasp and turned it about in his hand, the surface flashing in the sunshine.

“Aw, you're looking at yourselves in the mirror? Tryna look all pretty?” he mocked, “And here I was, thinking you couldn't be bigger sissies than you already are!”

“I'm not a--!” Piggy began to whine, but Simon gripped his arm. When he turned to the darker boy to ask why, Simon mouthed to him, “Let it go.” He was wise enough to know that Jack thrived off all attention, whether good or bad, and it was better not to feed into it at all.

“Maurice! Roger! Look at me!”

He paraded about with the mirror, posing in an overly effeminate and derogatory manner, giving the looking glass quick, lavish glances, in an expression of the sitting pair's perceived prissiness. This was enough to get Maurice to laugh, but Roger was characteristically unmoved.

Jack held it out in front of him and tried to fix his red curls in a way that resembled Simon's dangling black cords, as to better sell the punchline. The keyword being “tried,” as he never quite got to finish. The prolonged gaze into his own reflection that resulted from the exercise seemed to absorb all thought. His one hand fell limply to his side and his expression went from devilish delight to a complete lack of any emotion whatsoever. It was as if he somehow managed to hypnotize himself with his own image.

All parties who bore witness to this were greatly concerned; however, not sure what to do, they just watched him stand there in silence, hoping he would snap out of it on his own. The state didn't last long, it turned out, as Jack blinked a few times and eased out of the trance. He slowly drew the mirror to his chest, as Simon had done to try to protect it from him, and looked about the other four with wide, nervous eyes.

“W-why are you all staring at me?” he asked, his voice oddly soft and brittle, like a butterfly's wing.

“Uhh, because what you just did was really weird,” stated Maurice, injecting a bit of levity into the situation, as he was prone to do.

“Weird 'n scary,” Piggy added in a hushed voice, cautious about the prospect of the boy threatening him again, “Like you got... possessed or somethin’...”

“Oh…” Jack looked down at his feet, then lifted his head up slightly, “Well, I’m sorry I frightened all of you. I didn't mean to.”

Everyone went very, very quiet.

“Roger, am I going deaf? I think I'm going deaf. Because for a second there I could’ve sworn I heard  _ Jack Merridew _ say he was sorry. And he sounded like he  _ meant _ it.”

Roger ignored Maurice and walked straight over to Jack. He inspected him closely, which made the subject quite uncomfortable.

Something wasn't right. No, as a matter of fact, nothing was right at all. Jack had many defining features, and perhaps the most important of the nonphysical variety was his massive ego. He was overly self-assured in nearly everything he did, because, of course, he was Jack Merridew, lead chorister and head boy, who could sing a C sharp and was the greatest thing to happen to this island since pigs evolved on it. At least, that's what the skipping record in Jack’s brain must've said. But now, it seemed as if something lifted the needle. This… thing… that stood before Roger… it couldn't even look him in the eye. It was meek, slouching, constantly drawing inward, trying to desperately to disappear. He was so thoroughly un-Jack-like that, if he didn't see what happened for himself, Roger might've assumed that this was a very good lookalike who was an unfortunately terrible actor.

Jack shied away from Roger’s intense scrutiny, closer to Simon and Piggy, who both at this point came to a similar conclusion as the former. He looked down at them, guilt-ridden, and knelt down and presented the mirror to Simon.

“H-here, you can have this back now. I'm… I’m sorry I just took it like that. It was a rotten thing to do.”

Simon was dead quiet, staring at his reflected visage.

“S… Simon?” asked Jack, worried, “Are you... alright?”

The haze in Simon's bright eyes faded and they twitched up to Jack. Then, strangely, his eyebrows furrowed, and he grimaced. He snatched the mirror back.

“No, I’m not alright,” he spat, “and you're not helping that any!”

“Oh! I'm sorry!” Jack apologized compulsively.

“Oh, shut up!” Simon barked, jumping to his feet, stalking towards the other, who fearfully backed away, “Where was that yesterday?! The day before?! And before that, and even before that?! All you’ve ever done since the day we met is pick on me, or ignore me all together! Where’s all your apologies for that, huh?!”

Jack, terrified by the violent shift in behavior, scampered behind Maurice to hide.

Simon growled and made something of a lunge for him, looking about ready to bludgeon him to death with the silver mirror, but Piggy held him back.

“COME OUT YOU MERRI-BITCH, I’LL MAUL YOU!” Simon screamed, struggling against Piggy and his weight, which anchored him in place.

Jack's whimpers and trembling were quite apparent, even if Maurice shielded him somewhat.

“Now, now, Simon,” said Piggy nervously, yanking the hand mirror away, “I don't know what's come over you, but you’ve gotta remember that there's certain rules you gotta live by, certain morals. I didn't think you'd be able to forget that…”

Simon's blood had stopped outright boiling at this point, as he had ceased trying to fight against Piggy, and now it was just left to simmer. But even so, it was quite obvious that the stove top was still very much on.

Piggy, now at least a bit more confident he was actually being listened to, went into full-on lecturing mode, gesticulating with the mirror for emphasis.

“Remember: no matter where we are, no matter who we’re with, we’ve all got to keep civil! And that's the most important thing!”

It was in his righteous fervor that he accidentally dropped the looking glass. Being the responsible boy that he was, he immediately knelt down and picked it up, inspecting it for any possible shattering. Really, it was such a short fall that expecting anything like that was ridiculous, but Piggy was nothing if not a worrywart. It was in the search for any sign of breakage that Piggy himself grew enraptured by the mirror’s surface, and the boys around him were starting to sense a pattern.

After a few seconds, Piggy’s eyelids flitted a few times and he started… laughing… It was a loud, snorting, wheezy laugh, his face screwing up and everything.

He relaxed a bit, one hand holding the side of his head, and chortled, “Oh my God, what am I saying?!”

He took a sharp breath.

“We’ve got to keep civil?” he echoed himself, again nearly laughing at the mere notion, “Oh, give me a break! We're on a deserted island for crying out loud! The rules don't matter anymore!”

He paused for a moment, as even he was aware of how strange those words sounded coming from his mouth. He didn't exactly seemed disturbed by it, however, as those surrounding him were, more just intrigued. He gave the mirror a sideways glance.

“Oh, of course, I get it now!” he said, still sharp as ever, “It's like when you put a book up to a mirror, and the words inside get… reversed…”

He grinned mischievously, twirling the thing about in his hands.

“Oh, we’re 'bout to have  _ so _ much fun together...” he told it, pressing it against his fat cheek as if he were embracing a dear friend.

Roger stepped forward, his tolerance for all this nonsense wearing thin, and stated in his typical aggressive bluntness:

“Alright, that's it. I have no idea what's going on, but I'm smashing that thing.”

“Oh, I’d love to see you  _ try _ !” Piggy said pointedly as he shoved the mirror into Roger's face, dazzling him and rendering him temporarily immobilized. Just for good measure, and for the fun of it, he rushed up and did the same thing to Maurice as well.

It was so thrilling, being bad just for kicks, going against everything he once stood for. He felt so free without his moral compass. He was adrift, and loving it. He ran off, whooping and hollering, determined to leave nothing but chaos in his wake.

* * *

 

Ralph strolled out of the jungle, casually snacking on a banana. It had been quite a quiet, uneventful day for the chief, and he was reveling in it. Leading had so many pressures he’d never experienced before in the civilized world, so it was nice to be able to spend a few hours just trying to knock a bunch of bananas out of a tree without interruption. And now he got to enjoy the literal fruits of his labor. Well, fruit, singular. Most of the bananas were unceremoniously splattered on the ground when the large bunch fell. But either way, Ralph considered it a victory.

But then, suddenly, another body he couldn't even see came crashing into him, and he nearly choked on his food out of the shock.

Whoever it was embraced him quite tightly. Ralph had to use considerable effort to swallow the rest of his bite down, because he felt like the kid might squeeze it out of him.

“Oh, thank goodness we found you!” the boy burst, mouth running a mile a minute, “Maurice kept saying over and over and over how we’d never find you, but we didn't listen!”

That voice… he knew he’d heard it before, but… no, no. It couldn't be.

Could it?

Ralph looked down to the speaker, half of him hoping it was just some littlun he’d never thought to give any mind and the other half of him not sure  _ what _ to expect.

Looking up at him, dark eyes sparkling beneath the swath of jet black hair, smiling ear-to-ear, was Roger.

“Hi Ralph!” he chirped in greeting. Oh my God, he  _ chirped _ that. That must've been why it was so hard to decipher who was talking to him a few seconds ago. Because Roger usually grumbled everything.

“R... Roger? Is that… are you…?” He wasn't sure how to phrase it.

Roger let him go and giggled. The boy whose mug any other day of the week would only scowl at him... giggled…

“Of course it's me, silly! I'm just a little bit… you know... not me!”

Ralph’s first instinct was to look at the half-eaten banana in his grasp, wondering if that bunch he knocked down was as ripe as he thought it was. Seeing Roger this cheerful and friendly had to be some sort of indigestion-induced hallucination, obviously. There was simply no other logical explanation.

Ralph snapped out of that thought as Roger waved someone over. Soon, more familiar faces entered Ralph’s periphery, and he was thankful for it. That Roger was acting… rather strange. Unsettlingly so. And not in the way that they'd come to expect from him, either, it was a complete 180. It would be nice to see people he could count on to be consistent.

“Roger! Lay off him!” ordered one, sounding as if he were commanding a disobedient dog, “We’re trying to get help, not scare him away!”

Roger, however, was anything but disobedient, and promptly gave Ralph some much needed breathing room. He still seemed extremely enthusiastic however, bouncing in place and all around unintentionally making his presence known, despite not being part of the conversation. Which was peculiar, as before in such situations he’d prefer to slink off into the background. Ralph chose not to dwell on it.

Jack and Simon were standing before him now, and the ginger seemed worried sick about something.

“Jack, what's going on? One of you said something about needing help. Is something wrong?” Ralph asked, already knowing that if Jack was worried, things had to have gone  _ very _ wrong.

Merridew rubbed the back of his neck and stared down at the ground. He mumbled something, but when Ralph leaned in closer and asked him to repeat it, he looked up like a deer in the headlights, his face flushed, and stammered something unintelligible before completely shutting down.

Ralph blinked.

“What.”

It wasn't even a question. Just a statement. A raw reaction wrapped up in one syllable.

Since when-- no, no-- in what  _ universe _ was  _ Jack Merridew _ a wallflower?!

“Great,” griped Simon, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I have to do everything by myself, as usual! Just like carrying all you pitchy fucking sopranos back home!”

Ralph let out a small gasp and covered his mouth, scandalized. Simon just cussed.  _ Simon _ just  _ cussed _ . He didn't even think unassuming little Simon  _ knew _ any curse words!

His hand dropped.

“Alright, what's going on here?! None of you three are acting like yourselves!”

“F-four…” Jack stuttered, pointing down beside him.

Ralph followed the finger and saw Maurice, sitting on the ground, head resting on his knees. He was so quiet, Ralph didn't even notice his arrival.

“I told you he wouldn't understand,” he moaned to the others, “I told you. Now he won't help, and we'll be stuck like this forever…”

The dire forecast gave Jack anxious shakes as Simon rolled his eyes at both of them. Roger bounced over to the boy sitting and knelt down next to him.

“Aw, does somebody need a hug?” he spoke gently to his friend.

“It won't help any…”

Roger didn't seem to care about the lack of enthusiasm on Maurice's end, and clung tightly around him, the pair pressed cheek-to-cheek.

“Fine, okay…” Ralph said after a moment, trying to hop back onto his train of thought, “Three? Four? It doesn't matter. The point is… what happened to you?! Is this some sort of gag? Like it's Opposite Day or something? And what do you keep saying you need my help for?”

“If everyone would just  _ shut their yaps _ for five seconds…” Simon sniped, casting accusatory looks over the whole group, “...I could explain it to you. See, it all started when I found this dirty old mirror washed up on shore. I cleaned it up, and  _ some people _ started messing around with it. Anyways, it so happened that whoever looked right at his reflection too long, something in his head changed. Like a switch got flipped in his brain. I think Piggy put it like how words get reversed when you put them up to any mirror. That's what they all do for everything, really. But this one reversed more than just our outsides on its surface. It reversed  _ us _ .”

“... meaning?”

Simon gritted his teeth, frustrated by Ralph’s lack of comprehension.

“Meaning we’ve been hexed!  _ That's _ why Jack lost his spine, Roger's all lovey-dovey, Maurice is a wet blanket, and I'm--!”

“Being such a crank?”

Simon looked at Ralph quietly, then crossed his arms and groused, “Well, I told you, it's not as if I can help it…”

Ralph absorbed the explanation, and his mind got hitched on a certain, passing detail.

“Wait, did you say Piggy was there too, when you all got your heads mixed up? Where is he now then? And where’s that magic mirror thing?”

“That's what we're coming to you for!” Roger interjected, “He ran off with it, and we thought you might've seen him. Did you?”

“No, I just came out of the woods. But the island’s small enough, we’ll have to run into him eventually.”

Maurice groaned in a “you don't know that for sure” manner and buried his face in his knees. Roger started compassionately rubbing his back in an attempt to comfort, which was an adjective Ralph never thought he would ascribe to Roger's actions in a million years.

“Wait, why'd Piggy run off with it anyway?” Ralph asked, “If what you're saying is true, he’d know it was trouble and to leave it alone. He’s sensible like that.”

Simon gave him a baffled, exasperated look. “God, you really are a dumb blonde, aren't you?”

_ “Hey!” _

Ralph’s tolerance for Simon's attitude was eroding.

“I told you, I can't help it!” Simon exploded, a hint of desperation in his tone, “None of us can! Do you think I want to be like this? That I want to be an obnoxious, unlovable grouch forever? Of course I don't! That's why we need you!”

Simon reeled himself back a bit, drawing in a few slow, deep breaths, trying to calm down.

“What for?” asked Ralph after a spell.

Simon heaved out a sigh.

“Piggy. We need you to talk to Piggy. We need him to hand that thing over so we can try to figure it out and get back to normal. That mirror made him go all batty, so it probably won't even work, but if anybody on this island could possibly get through to him, it’d be you. Besides, it's better for us if we have somebody on our side whose head is still screwed on straight.”

Ralph quietly considered everything, then agreed to assist them. Thus, the group continued their trek across the island, searching for the boy they called Piggy and the object that had so altered them.

They could tell they were on the right track by the smattering of smashed sandcastles that started appearing on the beach, accompanied by a crying littlun or two. Ralph could guess well enough what Piggy had become, based on this and Simon’s earlier reaction. He’d gone from his fair and orderly ways to a troublemaker, from victim to victimizer. A bully, in short.

“I told you to get away from me, you freak!” they heard someone nearby yell.

“No, I told  _ you _ to get away from  _ me _ !” another yelled back, with the exact same voice.

“Stop touching me!”

“Make me!”

Samneric came tumbling into view, grappling with each other, a burning hatred in their eyes. Ralph saw the newly timid Jack hold back vomit as one twin pinned the other down and started wailing on him.

“We're close…” Ralph commented to his motley crew as the pinned twin overcame the other and reciprocated the blows, “Let's keep going.”

Jack and Roger, disturbed by such violence, lagging behind the group a bit as they stared down in horror at the dueling pair. Simon had to go back and drag them along, muttering curses under his breath all the while.

They eventually came across a section of beach they hadn’t really spent much time on, near some craggy pink cliffs. Here a large group of littluns were huddled together, and one young voice, clear and strong, cut through the crowd.

“My brothers! Our hour of retaliation is at hand! No longer will we let our elder peers dictate what we eat, where we meet, who will lead! No longer will they neglect our needs in service to their petty squabbles! No longer shall we be passive players in our own government, with that shell placating us with the false hope of representation! We shall be active, we shall be listened to! We shall grab the massive bull that is their power by the horns, and with our numbers, wrestle it to the ground!”

Standing on tiptoes to get a better view over the cluster of small heads, Ralph saw that the eloquent, persuasive speaker, standing upon a flat rock like a podium, was none other than Percival Wemys Madison. Subservient, sniveling little Percival, who earlier only ever seemed to know how to say his name and address and not much else. Obviously, Piggy had gotten to him, and maybe even planted the philosophy the child was expounding into his reforming brain. Either that or the regular Percival was just that internally frustrated, and just had no way to express it until now. But regardless of where it came from, Ralph could already tell this kind of talk wasn't doing them any favors. And then, just beyond the group of listeners, Ralph spotted a fat boy on the rocks, watching over everything and beaming with pride at his handiwork.

“PIGGY!” Ralph howled.

Unfortunately, this immediately gave away their presence to the tiny insurgants. Percival, with a simple point of his finger and a command, sicked the young boys on the bigguns. His speech was correct, the boys were outnumbered and swarmed. Piggy giggled at their predicament from his perch and scrambled up the cliffs. Ralph and Simon were able to fight through them somewhat (Simon manhandling them a bit too much for Ralph's liking) and went to follow Piggy, but the other three got stuck behind.

Ralph looked back at Jack and Roger, whose eyes darted about the littluns encircling them in worry.

“What are you two doing? Just push them away!”

“B-but that's… that's…”

“That's mean! We could hurt them!”

Ralph squinted at them in bafflement, almost bordering disgust. He knew well enough by now that they were their opposites, so this shouldn't be surprising him anymore, but still…

“Why does it even matter, anyway?” groaned Maurice, who wasn't even standing and surrounded, just laying there on his belly uselessly, “No matter what any of us do, we’re all just so insignificant in the grand scheme of the universe, it's not even worth the effort.” He let out a sigh. “A single human life is just a grain of sand in a vast desert. If it were blown away, crumbled up bit by microscopic bit, would anyone,  _ anything _ care? No. Humanity itself is just a blip in the history of a cold, random, pointless universe.”

As he droned on, something happened. The littluns started to listen. It seemed, no matter if they were jokes or absurdist philosophy, the things Maurice said always had a memetic quality. Some seemed to actually get depressed by his words, while some appeared morbidly fascinated. They grouped around him, some even sitting down for the lecture.

“What are you doing?!” screeched Percival as his followers abandoned him, “What about the cause?!”

“Any cause is a fruitless exercise. The only reason we take part in believing in them is to give purpose to our lives. But there isn't any, so why try?”

They debated on, and luckily this made for a great diversion, so Jack and Roger made a clean getaway. They caught up with the others and the group continued up the cliffs.

“Roger, I’m scared…” Jack said after a while, voice wavering, almost tearful, “Piggy's so mean now, I don't think I can handle it…”

“Oooh, Jackie…” Roger cooed, “Jackie, it's alright…”

Jack sniffled and whimpered. Ralph couldn't actually see the exchange because the two were behind him, but still found the moment genuinely sweet. Simon faked a retching motion.

Soon, the group reached a platform high on the rocks where Piggy stood. His back was turned as he overlooked the ocean.

“Hello, Ralph…” he said, anticipating his arrival for a while now, “and… others…”

Ralph stepped forward. “Piggy, what are you doing? What's your aim with all this? Because whatever it is, it's not working.”

Piggy turned, the mirror pressed against his chest.

“Aim? I got no aim. That's the point. I'm doin’ whatever I want, and I don't care what you or anybody else thinks.”

“You say that, but I know you do. Or, at least you did before...”

“Yes!” Piggy hissed, “Before! When I was weak and helpless! When I was your little lap dog you could kick around when you was bored! Of course  _ he's _ who you want!”

The vitriol stung Ralph harshly. He stood quiet a moment, trying to recover. “Piggy, I--”

“Shut up.”

Ralph's voice died in his throat, killed by Piggy's tone of absolute authority.

Piggy drew closer and grinned wickedly, “That's better.”

He strolled around the chief, eyeing him up, spinning the mirror in his hands. “I hafta wonder, Ralph, if I got you with this thing, who’d you become? You're harder to pin down than the rest of us. Maybe you'll go from a leader to a follower? Maybe the little golden boy will lose all his charms? Or maybe--” he interrupted himself with a giggle, “maybe you’ll actually be smart for once!”

Piggy’s grip on the hand mirror was lose and he was off-guard, and Ralph leapt at the opportunity. He snatched at it and the two engaged in a tug-of-war. Ralph, the more athletically built of the pair, won out, and held the mirror out by the handle, angled away from his face.

“Gimme it back!” ordered Piggy.

“No!” Ralph refused. He handed the mirror to Simon, who stared at his reflection in it with intense concentration, eyebrows furrowed more than ever. After a minute or two, he broke his gaze, looking back at Ralph in defeat.

“It's not working! I don't feel any different! I'm still an asshole!” he complained.

“What?” Ralph grabbed it from him, examining the back in distress, “How is it not working? What else can you do with a mirror that could fix this besides looking at it?”

Piggy, himself noticing an opportunity since Ralph was taken off guard, yanked it from his grip and shouted, “Now you’ll never find out!”

Ralph glanced at the mirror and then Piggy and back again. He thought a few moments about what he could do and how to go about it.

“Fine. Go ahead and keep it, for all I care.”

“That's easy for you to say! You're not the one who's all mixed up!” Simon hissed.

Ralph shushed him.

Piggy raised an eyebrow at Ralph, “Wait, really? You... you don't care?”

“Not a bit. You're holding it, it's not my business what you do with it.”

“Oh no, Roger!” Jack whispered, trembling, “I think he looked into the mirror too long!”

Ralph shushed him as well, this time giving a quick wink to his teammates.

Piggy seemed a bit disheartened by Ralph's apparent disinterest. He was a bully now, after all, he thrived on getting a reaction.

“All I ask is that you keep the thing safe. It's important to all these fellows, so it's important to me.”

Piggy flushed red, hate radiating off of him, fire in his eyes, “Oh, is that what you want, chief? Want me to play nice? Want me to be a good little boy, doing whatever you say? Well, guess what? Your sweet little lackey is gone for good! A-and just to prove it--!”

He raised the hand mirror in the air, over a hip-high tower of pink rock. The other boys, Ralph excluded, pleaded for him to stop, to reconsider, as if that would do anything. If anything, it only fueled him more. He smiled manically and smashed the glass into a million pieces.

Shocked silence followed, Piggy grinning smugly. His victory was short-lived, for a few seconds later, a sharp pain spiked in his skull. He gripped it, shrieking, as it felt as though his head were shattering apart, just as the mirror had. He wasn't alone in this, either. The screams of all on the mountain, again excluding Ralph, rang to the heavens. Though Ralph had his ears covered through most of it, he was sure he could hear the same sort of cries faintly echo from the island down below.

Finally, it stopped. Piggy collapsed on the rock spire, pieces of himself reassembled. He looked up to Ralph, rubbing his forehead.

“Ugh… did that… did I…?”

Suddenly, memories returning to him, he shot up straight, running over to the chief. He hugged him, crying, “Ralph! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do all that nasty stuff, promise! It was all the mirror’s fault!”

From behind, another set of arms wrapped around Ralph's waist, these ones skinny.

“l-I'm sorry I called you a dumb blonde! And hit those littluns! And almost tore Jack apart! And--!” sniveled Simon.

Ralph stood there, pinned between them, a bit annoyed with their blubbering but more glad that his friends were back.

Jack Merridew, meanwhile, was bouncing around with a newfound despicable energy, cackling boisterously.

“I feel fantastic!” he hollered, stopping in front of the trio with clenched, shaking fists, “Like I could strangle a wild boar with my bare hands!”

“I'd like to see that,” said a smirking Roger, clearly under the belief that such an act would get the boy killed, but finding that prospect amusing again.

“Well, it looks like everyone's gone back to their normal selves again!” Ralph concluded, smiling.

“And thank goodness for that!”

“Amen!”

Piggy glanced over the shards of glass on the rock and the mirror's empty silver frame.

“So, what should we do with that?” he posed, pointing down to the mess at their feet.

“I'll tell you what we'll do!” Jack interjected. He grabbed the frame off the ground and threw it towards the sea in one swift motion.

Jack cheered viciously as the silver speck plummeted into the water, “Wahoo! Take that, you stupid looking glass! That's what you get for turning me into a pansy!”

“Well, that takes care of that,” said Ralph, dusting his hands of the affair.

As the group hiked back down the mountain to rejoin the others, beneath the waves, the mirror drifted. As currents pulled it to and fro, the remaining edges of glass within began to expand, like growing sheets of crystal. Soon, as the tide pulled it back out to sea, the mirror's surface was fully formed once again, ready for the next sap who had the misfortune of looking into it next.

 

**Author's Note:**

> God this thing was so much fun to write, okay? Reversed Jack and Roger are sweeties and making local soft boi Simon say "fuck" was just. wonderful. also Percival's entire thing as well. gah, this was a blast for me, and I hope you think so too.


End file.
